


Two-Factor Theory

by foolish_mortal



Category: Jurassic Park III (2001)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-01
Updated: 2012-05-01
Packaged: 2017-11-04 16:58:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/396118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foolish_mortal/pseuds/foolish_mortal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The two factor theory of emotion states that physiological rushes such as adrenaline and fear can be misappropriated as anger or love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There was an experiment done once involving two kinds of suspension bridges. One of them was high and went over a ravine while the other one was lower and more stable. Male test subjects were instructed to cross a bridge, and an attractive woman on the other side handed them a questionnaire about their experiences. The experiment noted that men who had crossed the high unstable suspension bridge had a higher probability of being romantically attracted to the woman and asking her to dinner.

Alan didn't say anything when he saw Paul and Amanda sitting together at the canteen with their hands clasped, an empty pile of MRE wrappers between them at the military base. He didn't say anything when a glossy white letter arrived in the mail a few months later inviting him to Paul and Amanda's wedding. They told him Billy had received one too, but he kept moving from one cheap graduate school accommodation to another, so his letter must have just missed him in transit.

He wasn't quite sure where he and Billy stood anymore. Their dwindling dig funding had shut down their project long before the military had released them from the hospital to go back home, and Billy had been in therapy for most of the summer. Alan had tried to call a few times for purely professional reasons about Billy's employment with the dig, nothing to do with Alan being worried about him, but all of his calls had been routed to the answering machine. Of course the graduate department at Berkeley wasn't exactly vast, and he knew they would run into each other again sooner or later when the semester started, but he wasn't sure if he was looking forward to seeing Billy again or dreading it.

He had expected to pass Billy in the hallway or see him in what T.A's called grading parties, the tedious all nights on Friday nights when they graded exams and homework, so he was wholly surprised when Billy Brennan just poked his head into his office one Monday afternoon like he had done thousands of times before. Alan felt nostalgia clench around his chest and then shock. Billy had had lost his dark olive tan and the strong muscular definition in his arms and shoulders. His bright beautiful hair looked like it had been buzzed off, and two new scars that looked like slash marks arced across his forehead and into his hairline. He looked small and fragile, which was so utterly _wrong_ that Alan felt the breath leave his lungs.

"Hi, Dr. Grant," Billy said, and the familiar timbre of his voice finally grounded Alan enough to let him stand up to shake Billy's hand. Billy's wrists were knobby and thin.

"Billy Brennan," Alan said and then clapped his other hand on top of their clasped ones. Billy's skin was warm. "It's good to see you again."

Billy gave him an uncertain smile with his lips pressed together, and Alan missed the bright defiant flash of his teeth. "It's good to see you too. I haven't…not since…"

"I called you," Alan interrupted, because neither of them were good at this. "You know, about the dig."

"Yeah, the dig," Billy agreed, and Alan could have sworn Billy was teasing him, but his pale wan face was too tired for that. "Sorry, I was staying with my family up in Washington for a while. You know, during the therapy."

"Yes, well," Alan said and cleared his throat. "I haven't seen you on my T.A list."

"Wasn't sure you wanted me back," Billy said, and Alan wondered how much it had taken him to admit that.

And hell, if Billy was trying, Alan deserved to meet him halfway. "You're always welcome back," he said. "You're the only one who ever signs up."

There was something of the old Billy in the lines of his suppressed grin. "It's because they're all afraid of you, Alan."

"You're not," Alan replied, but it came out sounding like a question, which he supposed it was.

Billy looked back at him with his head cocked to one side, and this time he met Alan's eyes full on. "No, I'm not," he said. "I might take you up on that offer if it's still open."

"Of course," Alan said, and then fell silent, because he wasn't sure what else they could talk about without bringing up the elephant in the room.

Billy fidgeted and then checked his watch. "Hey, you want lunch?" he asked suddenly, and they ended up in a local sandwich place a few blocks into the student stomping grounds along Telegraph Avenue. He and Billy sat together at cramped table where their knees knocked together, but Billy seemed content to rest one lean hairy calf against Alan's and attack his sandwich with a ferocity that assured Alan that Billy's famous appetite had survived the Sorna incident unscathed.

"Could you pass the ketchup?" Billy asked, and Alan obliged, even though the bottle was easily within Billy's reach. He didn't raise the point, but he had forgotten how well Billy could read him. "Not quite out of PT," Billy explained and flexed his wrist. "I still have trouble extending my arms out all the way."

Alan watched Billy pile a mountain of ketchup on top of his fries, and remembered when Billy used to steal them from his plate. Alan moved his own plate forwards, but Billy didn't even look up, and Alan was disappointed. He almost missed slapping Billy's pilfering fingers away. He eyed Billy's atrophied forearms again and considered asking for another order of fries. "When do you end therapy?" he asked.

"Depends on my progress," Billy said. "But I'm hoping to get back into shape by the time surfing season rolls around this summer."

" _Billy_ ," Alan snapped, and Billy held up his hands.

"Kidding, I'm kidding, Alan," he said. "But not about getting back into shape by summer. I'm applying to work on a dig again. I'm thinking Madagascar."

"Tired of Fort Peck?" Alan asked, and he'd meant to say that lightly, but Billy winced anyway.

"I'll never get tired of Fort Peck," he said. "But, I don't know. You need a dig assistant that you can trust."

"I trust you," Alan said, and he hadn't known it was exactly what Billy needed to hear till he saw the raw look of surprise on Billy's face. "You were a hell of a dig assistant, and I would be happy to write you a recommendation if you're applying to Madagascar." It wasn't what Alan wanted to say, but he didn't know how to ask Billy to come back if he didn't want to. Alan just forged ahead. "I'll need to scrounge up another dig assistant—"

"Actually," Billy said and wiped his greasy fingers on his jeans. "I got something in the mail that you should see."

"Is it the Kirby's wedding invitation? Because they said you never got yours."

Billy frowned. "They're getting married again? Well, I guess that explains a lot." He unzipped his bag and showed Alan a single brown envelope that was still creased from being jammed into the small metal university mailboxes. The date was two weeks ago, and the return address was Enid, Oklahoma.

"Eric Kirby," Billy said as Alan opened the letter. "He wants to work at the Fort Peck dig this summer."

"Is this what you were coming to see me about?" Alan asked, and before Sorna, Billy would have smirked at him and replied with something flirtatious about wanting to see him regardless of reason, but now Billy just shrugged.

"It's your dig," he said. Not 'our dig,' Alan had to remind himself. Not anymore. "I guess he thought I could convince you. He's been talking about it for months."

"He talks to you?"

"We exchanged emails back and forth over the summer," Billy replied. "After Sorna. He wanted to see how I was doing." Alan felt like a bastard all over again, but Billy just shook his head. "It's okay, Alan. I know you hate email. I'm always the one that fixes your laptop, remember?"

"You just hit the power button, and it fixes itself," Alan muttered, but it had no bite. He scanned Eric's letter, which was just a long entreaty asking Billy to pass it on to him, because he wasn't answering the numerous emails Eric had sent. Maybe he should have been grateful Eric was too young to know about letter writing campaigns. "What does he want with us, anyway," he grumbled, because the last thing he needed was another bright young mind reminding him that he was turning into a dinosaur himself. It was a wonder his bones weren’t already in the process of fossilizing inside his body. "Hasn't he had enough of the bones?"

"Guess not," Billy said. "We haven't."

"Then I guess we're just as crazy as he is," Alan replied. "If we're up to having more money troubles and roasting in the Montana sun again for a summer, he's welcome to come along."

"We?" Billy asked, and Alan was about to apologise for his presumption when Billy gave him a genuine smile, one that lit up his face. "Do you mean it?"

Alan harrumped. "If you can stand working with an old dinosaur again, that is."

"Oh no," Billy said, still grinning. He stole a fry from Alan's plate and ate it with relish. "I like your kind of dinosaur."

And Alan wasn't quite sure what to make of that.

 

Billy left at the middle of the fall semester for Madagascar with a glowing recommendation from Alan and another from his doctor. It almost physically hurt to clap Billy on the shoulder and see him off with the rest of the dig team. Alan's throat felt too tight, and his skin felt dry and crackly, as if his bones were too big for them. Alan wondered whether his entire life was just a series of driving people to the airport and watching them leave him: Ellie, Eric, Billy. But Billy was the only one who always came back.

"Don't worry," Billy told him with a wink. "They'll take care of me." As if Billy didn't know he was the darling of the palaeontology department and was friends with everyone on the dig already.

Alan had sworn to himself long ago that he wouldn't write another book, not after his second polarizing one about Jurassic Park had gone down in a blaze of bad reviews from the critics, journalists, and every kind of genetic engineering company. It had been a wonder Eric had read it at all. InGen had denounced it as inflammatory and sensationalist with no concrete evidence, and scientists had complained that it read like a dimestore thriller. Ian had called to tell him in approving tones that the book had read like a tell-all from a bad breakup and that he had bought ten copies to give his friends for Christmas. Alan hadn't asked whether they were supposed to be gag gifts.

So it surprised him when he sat down to his typewriter one day and hammered ten pages out in one sitting about his adventure on Isla Sorna. Maybe it was because every time he pictured the island with all its savage beauty be couldn't help but think of Billy and his lucky strap, his cool-headed optimism, his bright analytical eye, and god, Alan missed him desperately. There was no one to interrupt him in the middle of important phone calls or share lunches or shoot pool with him on Friday nights.

Billy mailed back pictures sometimes because he knew Alan hated trying to open zipped files in his email. The pictures were all glossy and overdeveloped and smelled like dust and heat. Alan put them on his tackboard, blurry images of the dig team having drinks at a bar or posing with their hired helpers over a fossil they had discovered. Billy had written 'found an articulated skeleton' with three exclamation marks on the back of one, and Alan taped it to the fridge in the break room.

Billy had apparently told Eric to pester Alan once in a while to make sure he was still alive, because Alan got an email from him a few weeks after Billy had left. _Hi, Dr. Grant._ Eric wrote. _Billy told me you're writing a new book. Is it true? Is it about Isla Sorna?_

 _Yes_ , Alan replied back. _Would you like to read it?_

He swallowed his pride and asked one of the undergraduates during office hours to show him how to attach a file to an email and sent off pieces, knowing Eric would be thrilled.

 _It looks like you've forgiven Billy_ , Eric wrote back after he'd finished reading all eighty pages in a day.

Alan had wondered what Eric meant by that. He had been careful not to mention Billy at all. He hadn't wanted to accidentally trigger any further questioning that could have destroyed the beginnings of Billy's promising palaeontology career. _I don't mention him in the entire thing_ , he wrote back.

 _Exactly_ , Eric said, and Alan wondered if he was being cryptic on purpose.

 

Alan's book was published in time for Thanksgiving. Billy came back at the end of December. "I liked your book," was the first thing he offered when he first stepped off the plane, and then he enveloped Alan in a crushing hug. Alan noticed that he carried all the bags himself with his old easy grace, but he still couldn’t wear a backpack across his shoulders.

Billy's flight had come in around midnight on Christmas Day, so he and Alan had a late Christmas dinner cobbled together with cans of yams and turkey sandwiches from the local 24-hour deli. Billy took over Alan's ancient microwave to heat up bowls of water and milk for their instant mashed potatoes and dried stuffing and solidified creamed onions.

Alan eyed him sidelong as they waited for the microwave to finish. He thought Billy looked healthier, tan with the suggestion of lean muscles in his arms and shoulders and thighs. His hair was growing back wilder than ever. Alan wanted to ask a thousand questions, whether Billy had liked Madagascar better than Fort Peck, what they'd found out about the articulated skeleton. If Billy had missed him. The microwave interrupted him before he could open his mouth, but maybe that was for the best.

“Billy, could you get the—oh, never mind, I can get it myse—"

He fell silent as Billy reached out with slow halting deliberation until his arm was completely extended and grabbed the mashed potato box from the plastic grocery bag. He met Alan’s eyes and handed it over.

“Not bad,” Alan said finally and broke the silence. “You’re my kind of stubborn-minded bastard.”

Billy grinned back proudly.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey, Billy!" Eric Kirby skidded to a stop in front of the workbenches, and Alan turned the brim of his hat against the ensuing clouds of dust. The day had been hot, and they were all covered in layers of sweat, dirt, and strong sunscreen.  Eric's face was smeared with lines of dust where he must have wiped his forehead.

"Eric." Billy gave him a rictus of a smile and put down the last bucket of paintbrushes with some difficulty. Alan eyed the way Billy pressed his fingers to his shoulder and rotated it. "How's it going, dude? Find anything cool today?"

"A few pieces of vertebrae," Eric replied, and his face was shining under his hat. "It was really neat."

Billy gave him a more credible smile and a thumbs-up. "If you're not busy cleaning them tomorrow, I'll show you how to make plaster jackets for the fossils we're taking back to Berkeley."

Eric's eyes rose into his hairline. " _Awesome_."  He snapped his fingers. "Oh wait, I wanted to show you a really cool piece of bone I found this morning. Wait here."

Billy sighed and crossed his arms as he watched Eric run off toward the cardboard boxes of fossils that were piled in the shadow of Alan's camper. "Jeez, Alan. That kid makes me feel old."

"He makes everyone feel old," Alan replied and followed Billy as he checked all the equipment. Billy was moving too stiffly for his liking. "You okay?"

"Fine," Billy bit out and then scrubbed his fingers through his hair. There were half-moons of dirt under his fingernails. "Sorry. I'm sorry, I just—"

"Forget it," Alan replied. "You staying for dinner? We're having chilli and cornbread."

"Mm," Billy said appreciatively. "That sure beats ramen." He jerked his chin at Eric's receding back. "It was nice of you to put him up for a few weeks."

"His parents wouldn’t let him volunteer for the dig unless he stayed with me," Alan replied. "I'm surprised they let him out of their sight so soon."

Billy shrugged. "He's a pretty resilient kid." He shaded his eyes and watched Eric dig through the stacks of cardboard boxes. "So has he driven you crazy yet?"

Alan shrugged. "Some volunteers try to find as many new fossils as they can. But I've seen the kid spend hours just picking away at just one bone."

Billy grinned. "Yeah, I like him too." He dropped the subject as Eric came back.

"Billy." Eric held out a flat piece of bone that looked like part of a rib. "Look at the marks."

Alan had to admire the way Billy made interested noises and asked questions like he hadn't seen raptor claw marks on bones before. Or maybe he was genuinely interested; Alan had never quite been able to tell with him.

"Alright, alright," he interrupted when Billy began talking about raptor hunting packs. "Let's get the bones inside and wash up."

Their actual kitchen table was a mess of fossils and plaster and chemical baths, but they had a folding plastic table that just fit all three of them, and Alan and Billy dragged it outside under the little awning that attached to the camper.

Eric was already tossing onions and kidney beans in a tall two-handed pot when they came back in, and Alan graciously offered Billy the first of the three ten-minute showers they had managed to negotiate out of their hot water heater. Billy looked much better when he emerged from the bathroom freshly showered in a change of spare clothes and a towel around his shoulders. His skin was pink under his dark tan, and he was moving easier, more like the Billy Brennan he used to be. But then Alan saw the flash of a white scar underneath Billy's pale singlet.

"Go ahead," Billy told Eric and took his place at the oven as Eric left to wash.

Alan eyed the cornbread mix and then Billy's square brown hands cracking eggs into a mixing bowl. "Are you sure you can handle that?"

"It comes from a box, Alan," Billy said. "I'm a grad student. I'm the executive chef of box foods. And freeze dried foods too, come to think of it." He waited till the bathroom door closed and the shower started. "So. Paul and Amanda are getting married, huh."

"Looks like it," Alan replied. He didn't know why they were talking in low voices, but it seemed important that Eric didn't overhear them. "You missed your wedding invitation."

"Guess I'll just have to be your plus one," Billy joked and poured the batter into a pan. "Hey, does your oven still burn everything over 200F?"

"Only when I use it," Alan replied. "You seem to be able to charm it into doing whatever you want."

Billy looked pleased at that. He left the cornbread to cook and circled the kitchen table to inspect some of the fossils that were already wrapped in plaster. He picked up a loose raptor claw, the curved razor-sharp one next to the dewclaw, and traced the edge of it with his thumb. "They're still beautiful," he murmured. "Is that weird to say? That I still…They almost killed us."

"What we saw on Sorna wasn't a velociraptor," Alan replied, and the words tasted stale in his mouth. He had said the same thing to Ellie years ago, but she hadn't listened to him. The Nublar had awakened some base primal instinct that had made her hate the bones. "They looked like dinosaurs, but they weren't."

"They were too big," Billy said, and Alan was proud of his cool clinical tone, like they were discussing illustrations in a textbook. "They had the movement, the feathers, everything. But they were too big. They looked more like a deinonychus. You think InGen combined their DNA?"

"Wouldn’t put it past them," Alan said. "They were only interested in turning a profit." He nearly kicked himself as he saw Billy's expression dim. "Billy, I never meant to—"

"I know, Alan," Billy murmured and gave him a weak smile. Alan wondered who had taught him to use that particular appeasing smile. He didn't like it.

"Chili should be done soon," Alan said instead. "You want to get some clean bowls?"

Eric came back wearing a spare shirt that had DinoGlide stretched across the front, and Alan switched places with him to grab what was ideally a ten-minute hot shower but was in reality somewhere around six. The water hit him like a ton of bricks, and Alan felt a few layers peel away. The water in the drain was a cloudy brown and then clear, but the water was tepid by that point, and goosebumps were zinging up and down Alan's arms, so he turned the water off.

Billy’s back was to him when he entered the kitchen. Billy had one arm braced against the counter and was slowly reaching with the other arm for the glasses on the overhead shelf above the sink. His arm was stuck at face level, fingers outstretched. A small strained gasp, and Billy rose on his toes, used the counter as leverage, and managed to hit the shelf.

The glasses rattled. One got jostled and slipped, falling into the sink with a crash. Billy threw up a hand to protect his face.  Alan was beside him in an instant. “You alright?”

“Huh?” There was a fine layer of sweat on his forehead. “Y-Yeah. Sorry, Alan, I didn’t mean to-”

“You should have asked for help,” he said and began picking the glass out of the sink.

“I thought I could manage it,” Billy growled, angry but not at Alan.

“Here.” Alan handed him the three glasses. “Go on out. I’ll clean this up.”

Billy grabbed the glasses wordlessly and left. Alan began clearing up the smaller pieces of glass and wondered why Billy refused to believe he couldn’t go back to full mobility right away. He was still as impulsive as ever.

No, that was unfair. Billy _had_ changed, but not in ways Alan expected. He was quieter now and less prone to action. More often than not Billy would catch his eye to get his approval instead of charging ahead by himself. And that wasn’t like him at all. Billy was smart, had good instincts, and was completely capable of handling things autonomously. Alan had always trusted that he would do the right thing. It was why he’d hired Billy as the dig assistant in the first place. It was why he’d taken him to Isla Sorna.

“Alan.” Billy poked his head back in. “What are you- jeez! Don’t clean that up with your bare hands!”

“I’m fine. Almost done,” Alan said.

Billy rolled his eyes and threw one of the dish rags at him. “Use this. Don’t argue.”

Alan caught the rag and wrapped it around his hand. Billy really picked the most annoying moments to boss him around.

They all sat down to eat outside and watched the shadows stretch out longer and darker. The sun set late out here, but the immediate humidity had already lessened, and the air felt cool on Alan's skin. The three of them ate silently through their first bowls of chilli and then their second. Alan finally sat back feeling comfortably full and rubbed his stomach.

"Mm," Billy sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I could fall asleep right here."

"There's still work to do," Alan reminded him. "Sun hasn't gone down yet, and there are fossils to catalogue. We're wrapping up the dig at the end of the week."

He could have sworn the corner of Eric's mouth turned down. "I can't believe it's already ending."

"Digs aren't cheap," Alan said.

"And we come back every summer anyway," Billy added. "You sort of reach a point where you have to stop uncovering new fossils and begin packing up the ones you've got."

Eric sighed. “I just wish I could…I don't know, stay with you guys.”

Alan and Billy burst out laughing at the same time.

“You don’t,” Alan said finally.

“Trust me, you don’t,” Billy agreed. “For one, there is no ‘us guys.’ Everyone goes their separate ways when the dig's over. Individually, there’s no way we could look after you. We’re all just poor grad students and self-absorbed professors.”

“Hey,” Alan objected but made no attempt to correct him.

“Takes a whole dig to raise a kid," Billy said. "I can barely take care of myself- instant noodles are my whole food pyramid. Couple weeks with any of the grads, and you’d die of scurvy.”

"I can take care of myself," Eric said and crossed his arms. "I'm not a kid."

Alan raised a hand. “I don’t doubt that. You’ve proved that over and over. But you would have to take care of us too.”

"Agreed," Billy said. "I'll be practically off the grid when I'm back at Berkeley."

"What are you doing for the rest of the summer?" Eric asked.

"I do some tech work for the museum," Billy said. "You know, saw open the plaster jackets and start picking out the fossils. It's grunt work, really, but it's interesting. And Berkeley has summer classes too."

"It sounds cool," Eric said, sounding jealous. "I'm just going back to Enid."

"Thought you might want to spend time with your folks," Alan said.

"Sure," Eric said, but he looked uncertain. "I…I don't know. They're different."

"Jurassic Park does that to you," Alan said. He remembered Ellie again and wished with a sudden rush of anger that he weren't such a pessimist. He wished the Kirbys the best, he really did, if only for Eric's sake. "I'm surprised you're so comfortable with the bones," he added and tried to change the subject.

Eric shrugged. "They're just made of rock," he said. "They're not the real bones."

"Very practical," Alan replied. "Some people aren't like that." Except Ellie was one of the most practical and unflappable people that he knew, and seeing how she shuddered every time she passed a dinosaur skeleton at the museum had scared him. Call him biased, but he had never really approved of her whirlwind romance with that big-name D.C suit, but now he wondered if she wasn't happier with the white picket fence and the 2.5 kids because it was as far removed from Jurassic Park and Berkeley as she could get, and the only dinosaurs were the plastic child-safe ones that Charlie was so fond of.

He had a sudden thought that the three of them needed to stick together, because Paul and Amanda had already vanished into a world full of green neatly-trimmed lawns and nine to five cubicle jobs, and he and Billy and Eric might be the only people who knew about Sorna, lived and breathed it. Sometimes it felt like his old life was the exotic and mysterious island that he couldn't navigate and Jurassic Park was home.

"Why don't you come with us?" he asked, and Billy's eyebrows shot up. _What?_ he mouthed over, but Alan ignored him. "Your parents won't be back from vacation for another week, and I have an extra room that no one uses."

"Really?" Eric said, and the visible relief in his face was palpable. "You mean it?"

"Sure," Alan said. "Think about it. We're out here till the end of the week."

"A week that I intend to use," Billy said and stood up with his empty plate and cutlery. "Sorry to cut out, but I have to catalogue for a few hours and then pass out on your floor."

"I have an extra sleeping bag," Alan said. "Make sure you land on that when you fall."

"Haha," Billy muttered, and Eric grinned.

 

It was one of those squashy uncomfortable nights that always made the nightmares trample through. Alan tossed and turned for a few minutes and then got up to get a glass of water. His watch said it was three in the morning.

He ran into Billy fixing himself a coffee in the kitchen.

“Hey,” Billy said as if he had been expecting him. He waved his mug. “Want one?”

Alan rubbed his eyes. “How the hell can you drink those to fall asleep?”

"I have a high tolerance," Billy said. The kitchen was silent except for the low quiet hum from the coffee maker and Billy's fingernail against his mug. “You get them too, huh?”

There were shadowed in the kitchen for a moment, sharing each other’s space and looking alike, looking old.

"Yeah," Alan said finally. "You would think they stopped after a while."

"They're just made of rock. They're not the real bones," Billy murmured and looked to where Eric was an unmoving lump of sleeping bag on the living room floor. "Alan, why are we taking him with us?"

Alan took a deep breath. "Because we believe him," he said. "When he goes back home, he won't be able to talk about Sorna with anyone."

"Paul and Amanda," Billy started.

"Paul and Amanda don't want to think about it," Alan replied. "They got him back, and that's all they care about. Sorna is just…an idea for them now. But Eric. Well, you've seen him."

Billy nodded. "He can't let the place go," he said. "Is that why you went back, Alan?"

Alan glanced up, but Billy was studying his coffee so intently that Alan expected it to explode at any moment. "I—"

"I'm sorry," Billy said. "I shouldn't have asked that."

"Stop. You don't have to do that," Alan told him. "Not around me."

Billy looked surprised. "Do what?"

"Apologise all the time," Alan said. "Or act like a nice guy whenever you think someone's mad at you."

Billy gave him that infuriating smile again. "Alan, I don't know what you're talking—" But then he touched the corners of his upturned lips and stopped. "I didn't." He tried again. "I didn't think it bothered you."

"It should bother _you_ ," Alan said loud enough that Eric snorted and turned over in his sleep. They both fell silent and watched him till he settled back down.

"I can't figure him out," Billy whispered. "He's always running to show me fossils he's found or talk about books he's read."

"He likes you. He thinks you're cool," Alan said.

Billy made a face. "Alan, please never say the word 'cool' ever again. It's weird." He drained his coffee mug. "I mean, you were the one he met on Sorna, right? But why does he like _me_?"

"Everyone likes you," Alan said. "But that doesn't mean everyone has to."

"I'm pretty sure I have to be at least fifty years older to rock the cantankerous look," Billy said.

"Best to start young and get in some practice," Alan said, and Billy laughed so hard that Eric finally woke up and groggily demanded to know what was funny.


	3. Chapter 3

Eric looked up from his book when Billy banged his way into the apartment with brown grocery bags under each arm. “Hey, Alan,” Billy called out and then stopped short. “Eric? Why are you back so soon? I thought you were going to the museum for the day.”

“The exhibit I wanted to see was closed,” Eric replied. "I went to see a movie and then came back for lunch."

Billy raised an eyebrow. “Has Alan come out of his room since then?”

Eric didn’t know what kind of expression he was wearing, but Billy laughed and took the groceries into the kitchen. Eric heard the fridge open. “Is he out of milk yet? Oh, yup.”

Eric scooted off the couch to watch Billy slide two cartons of milk into the refrigerator beside a pile of wilted celery. "Are all these for Dr. Grant?"

Billy looked over his shoulder and caught Eric staring at the groceries. He shrugged. “It’s kind of a trade off. He helps me graduate, I ensure he makes it through next week. Kind of a self-serving charity, I’ll admit.”

One of the bags over balanced and a bunch of grapes tumbled into the sink. He cursed and put the grapes in a colander to run under the tap. He broke off a cluster and tossed it to Eric, who ate them with relish. Billy left the non-perishable groceries on the table and filled up the coffeemaker.

“Alan and I have work to do," he said with a grin. "We need liquid sustenance."

Work turned out to be a lot of rambling discussions about scientific papers and arguing over which scientists were the idiots of the week (McHenry and Omondi consistently topped) and which ones had some interesting stuff out there (Christianson looked like he was getting somewhere with the theropod posture but Nguyen had kicked his ass with her recent paper on feathered dinosaurs).

As much as Eric wanted to sit there and just _listen_ and soak it all up, he knew better than to disturb them. He went back to finishing his book and flipped through the five channels Dr. Grant got on his rabbit ears television. Click click click. He cycled the channels around and around, waiting for one of them to switch to something interesting. He finally settled on a channel that was apparently broadcasting a T.V. Land special and settled back to watch “I Dream of Jeannie.”  He stopped after the fourth or fifth episode to offer Dr. Grant and Billy some of his hot cocoa, because his homework was done, he was getting bored, and those guys could use a break. It seemed his pity was unfounded because unless they were discussing Professor McHenry’s most recent claims, he was sure fossil research didn’t merit the amount of laughter coming from the study. They were probably discussing old movies or the weird assistant that worked at the admissions office.

 _I’m serious_ , Billy had told him once. _She’s like Lizard Woman_.

Billy finally gave up on pretending they were doing any actual work and moved out to the couch, where he, Dr. Grant, and Eric spent three and a half hours watching Dragnet reruns, drinking Eric’s hot cocoa, and finishing up the bags of popcorn that had been collecting dust in the cabinets for months. The couch was old and tiny and sank under their combined weight so that Eric was crushed in the middle and their elbows knocked together whenever one of them shifted, but Eric didn't move until the marathon ended.

 

The next day all three of them had a free afternoon (Dr. Grant only taught morning classes, and the equipment Billy needed for his research hadn’t come in yet), so they piled into Dr. Grant's truck and drove to the hiking trails near Oakland. Billy obviously loved it there. The colour surged into his face, and the movement of his shoulders was smoother. There weren't as many people on the trails in the middle of the day. They passed a small group of kids that looked like they were on a field trip and then some guy who was throwing pinecones for his dog. And then the park was silent except for the birds and the occasional small stream.

"This is my favourite trail," Billy said and redirected them down an off path that had cliffs and rocks instead of tall sequoia trees. The trail was steep uphill in some places, and Eric was soon sweating into the baggy t-shirt Billy had loaned him. It had Pike's Peak Marathon emblazoned across the front, which was something Eric figured he would ask Billy about sometime.

The walk made them hungry, but there were no trash bins, so they were careful to fold up their empty granola wrappers and tuck them away. Some of the rocks along the trail were wider at the top than the bottom so that they made ledges, and after a while Eric recognised them as rock shelters.

Eric pointed to one as they passed. “So, do people camp up here?”

Billy shrugged. “Not really, but that would be a good spot. Prehistoric humans used to camp out in rock shelters, right?” he turned to Grant, who nodded. “They’ve found a lot of artefacts in places like that- debris, tools.”

“Do you know how rock shelters form, Eric?” Grant asked, and Billy rolled his eyes.

"Jeez, you don't have to _advertise_ that we're a couple of nerds."

"What do you mean?" Dr. Grant asked.

"You're using your professor voice," Billy said. "I blame myself for bringing up the prehistoric humans. Fine. Eric, how do rock shelters form?"

“With the erosion, right?” Eric said. "The softer rock under the surface erodes away?"

"Full marks," Billy said. "And do you—" But Eric's mobile phone interrupted him.

Eric checked the caller ID and saw it was his mom. He wondered why she was calling in the middle of the day. "It's my mom," he said. "I'll catch up. It's okay."

"Don't be too long," Grant said. "Looks like it's going to thunderstorm pretty soon. We should turn back."

"Okay," Eric said. He put his backpack on a small ledge of rock and dug through it to find the phone and managed to get it on the last ring. "Hello?"

"Eric? Honey?" his mother said on the other end. Her voice was hoarse.

"Mom?" he said and gripped the mobile tighter. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, Eric, I'm so sorry."

 

It was starting to drizzle, and Eric wasn't back yet. Alan checked his watch and tugged the brim of his hat down. "Should we wait?"

"He must be on his way back by now," Billy said. "Who did he say called? Amanda? Maybe we should call her."

Just then the sky opened up into a full downpour, and thunder rumbled towards them. They ran under a tree for shelter, but it was sparse and covered them in pine needles. "Call her," Alan growled, and they huddled around the phone as it rang once, twice.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Amanda. It's Billy Brenna—"

"Oh my god, is Eric alright?"

They exchanged glances. "What happened?" Billy asked. "Why would Eric not be alright?"

"I, oh." Amanda made a strange noise, and it took Alan a few seconds to realise it was a sob. "I told Eric that Paul and I…we thought it could work, but we just couldn’t' stop fighting, and—"

"The wedding's off," Alan said. He should have seen this coming. He _had_ seen this coming, but he'd blinded himself to it because Eric had been ecstatic at the prospect of his parents getting back together. That was what Jurassic Park did, he thought dourly. Brought you together and drove you apart.

"Sorry, Amanda. We have to go," Billy said and disconnected the phone. He started walking back down the trail, and Alan followed him. Billy stopped where the trail diverged and scrutinised it.

"He could still be on the off-trail," he said. "Or he could have continued down this one."

"You take the main trail," Alan said. "You can probably run it faster than I can."

"You shouldn't try to run anything in this weather," Billy replied. His expression was tightly-wound. "Seriously, be careful. Call me if anything happens."

 

Alan found Eric exactly where he had expected, under the soft curve of the particular rock shelter that Eric had pointed out on their hike. Eric's clothes were relatively dry, and Alan wondered how long he had planned on staying there. Eric looked up, met his eyes, and then looked away.

 “I want them back.” Eric’s face was wet, but it might have been the rain. “I want them back, I want them _back_.”

Eric was too old for hugging and Alan wasn’t the type anyway. So he just hunkered down beside him and stared out grimly into the rain.

“I mean,” Eric surreptitiously wiped his face with his sleeve. “Everything was okay with them. They were talking about getting back together, getting married again.” He saw Alan's expression and then looked away. “Sorry,” he offered quietly.

Alan half-shrugged. “You were stupid, kid. Can’t apologize for stupidity- doesn’t work like that.”

He sighed. “I know.”

Alan turned to him. “No, you don’t. Ever wondered what would happen to us if you’d disappeared? Every wondered what would happen to your parents?” When Eric turned down his eyes. “Huh, guess not.” He leaned in closer. “This was stupid,” he growled. “This was selfish, and I expected better of you.”

Eric’s voice was tenuous. “I’m sorry, Dr. Grant.”

And hadn’t he expected better of someone else months and months ago? He saw a shadow of Billy’s expression in Eric’s face and felt like a bastard all over again. He sighed and clapped a hand on Eric’s shoulder. “Kid, I am glad as hell to find you alive.”

And that's what he had wanted to say to Billy too, but the moment had past once they had left the helicopter.

Alan took off his hat and put it on Eric's head. It engulfed him, made his face diminish, but Alan knew it would keep off the rain. "Come on," he said. We have to find Billy."

When they met Billy in the parking lot, he was doing his best impression of a drowned rat. His hair was plastered to his skull, and his toes were indistinguishable in his dirty sandals. Unlike Alan, Billy was a hugging kind of guy, and he stepped forward to attempt one before realising he was covered in mud. He grabbed Eric's shoulders instead. “Oh my god, Eric, we were so worried. _Amanda's_ worried. Where were you? Forget that. This place is dangerous when it rains. How could you—"

“Billy.” Alan gave him a look. “Later.”

Billy backed down quickly and pulled out his phone. “Hold on. Hey, Amanda? Yeah, we found him. Yeah, he’s alright.” He glanced at Eric, who had paled. “Maybe later. We have to go. No. Yeah, sorry. Bye.” He snapped the phone shut. "Figured you wouldn't want to talk to your mom right now."

"Thanks," Eric said, and Alan could barely hear his voice.

He clapped a hand on Eric’s shoulder. “Let’s get out of this rain.” But Eric didn’t move, just stared at Billy the way he’d looked at Alan in the rock shelter.

“What?” Billy followed Eric’s eyes. There was a long angry scrape down one of his shins. “Oh, this. Slipped on some rocks. No big deal.” Eric still looked doubtful, and Billy tried to reassure him as they all squeezed into Alan's truck and left their footprints all over it. Alan reversed and roared out of the parking lot as Billy continued. "Seriously, you get used to it with extreme sports. It’s like a _law_. Everything has to earn you a scar to tell stories about. Like a mnemonic. And if you don’t have a scar, well, your story’s not very good.”

 He rolled up a sleeve and pointed to a faded hook shaped scar on his elbow. “See this? Got it in Yosemite climbing Highlander- that’s a 5.12c class.”

“5.12c class?” Eric asked, frowning.

Billy boasted a little in spite of himself.  "A Class 1 is just walking- unless you’re a real dope and trip on your shoelaces, there’s no way you can get hurt. A Class 5 is with pretty much vertical rock. The higher the decimal and letter, the harder the climb.” Eric looked suitably impressed and crowded closer to look at it. Alan looked on from the rearview mirror, interested in spite of himself. The kid didn’t look as miserable as when they had bundled him into the car.

“This one’s from undergrad.” Billy showed them the puckered white line going across the back of his left hand. “My old roommate lived in L.A. and we went surfing at Huntington Beach. I, uh…may have been a little out of my league.”

“A little?” Alan said dryly. Billy and Eric ignored him.

Eric pointed. “What about that one?”

Billy laughed. “I burned my arm helping my mom make crème brulee two years ago. Dessert that evening was…crunchy.”

Eric pointed to a strange spiral looking one on his thumb. “And that one?”

“That one…sorry, I don’t remember that one.” Billy rubbed at it speculatively. "I guess after Sorna, there are some scars I can't…" He turned back to Eric, but now he was smiling. “You want to hear about hiking Mount Kilimanjaro?"

 

"He's cute, Alan," Ellie said in his ear, and Alan almost dropped the phone. He hoped Eric hadn't overheard her. "You never mentioned that he was cute."

"Didn't think it needed mentioning," Alan replied, and Ellie laughed. Alan turned up the volume on the television and scooted closer with his dinner balanced on his knees. He and Eric were eating leftover sandwiches from lunch. Billy's cooking might have been limited to boxes and cans, but he could cook much better than Alan.

Billy was sitting on a panel at UCLA debating the merits of Jurassic Park, and they were broadcasting it on an obscure channel that featured TED talks and university science events across the country. The people coordinating the event had sent Billy a personal invitation, and Alan wasn't sure if it was because they wanted his scar stories or because Billy was young and vibrant and handsome where the rest of them were tired and cantankerous. They had once made the mistake of inviting Ian, who had spent all his screentime infuriating the others on the panel and flirting outrageously with the female proctor. Alan had decided that Ian was entertaining as hell when he was bothering other people.

"What do you think of the financial gains of Jurassic Park?" the proctor asked.

Alan looked up from his dinner to catch the end of Billy's trademark winning smile and knew he was planning on charming the panel to pieces and getting the hell out of there. Billy hated talking about Jurassic Park, for all that he could talk Alan's ear off about practically everything else.

The InGen representative got to the mike first. "Well, I for one think the park still has great potential." Alan's stomach clenched, and suddenly he was furious. "There have been some unfortunate accidents," the representative continued. "But nothing we can't prevent if we all use the necessary precautions."

Eric snorted and muttered under his breath.

Billy didn't break eye contact with the InGen panellist and leaned forward to put his mouth close to the mike. He put an elbow on the table, and the stage light blazed against the white scar that went across his bicep and disappeared into the sleeve of his polo. "Fuck you," he said.

Ellie laughed delightedly in Alan's ear. "I like him," she said. "Keep him, Alan."

"I have no business keeping anyone," Alan muttered. "Least of all Billy Brennan."

"Oh, Alan," Ellie said and laughed. But then she went quiet and sucked in a breath. "Oh, Alan," she said again, but her voice was soft and sympathetic.

"There's nothing to talk about," Alan growled and hung up. She called again, but he ignored it.

"Who was that?" Eric asked.

"No one," Alan said. "Eat your dinner."

 

Eric had been eyeing the clock for a while since the three of them had settled down to watch the M*A*S*H marathon on television, but he stood up as the hour hand finally hit the ten. “I have an early day tomorrow. I’m going to bed.”

Billy dropped his popcorn. “Seriously? Please, say that again. You are like, Golden Child. When I was your age-”

“-Don’t encourage him,” Alan reprimanded. “How about ‘Good choice, kid. Way to be responsible.’”

Billy turned back to Eric and beamed at him, the really wide Burt Lancaster grin. “Good choice, kid. Way to be-” Alan smacked the back of his head. Billy laughed.

“Don’t stay up. We’re just going to finish this episode, and then I’m turning in,” Alan said and crammed a handful of popcorn into his mouth while Billy was distracted.

“Yeah,” Billy said. “I should be heading back home soon.”

Eric yawned and nodded. “Okay, good night Alan, good night Billy.”

“Night, Eric,” Alan said, and Billy echoed him.

The door at the end of the hall clicked shut but light was still coming through the cracks; Eric was probably catching up on some reading. The kid read science papers and textbooks like they were cheap paperback novels, and Alan wondered what his high school teachers were going to do when he was finally unleashed on them.

 Billy looked down the hall and settled back on the couch. “Eric’s a good kid,” he said fondly.

They were still comfortably squashed together from before when it had been the three of them on the two-seater, but Alan was too lazy to move and just awkwardly reached around Billy for the popcorn bag.

“M’yeah,” he replied with his mouth full. He swallowed. “Shame about his parents. They don’t know how lucky they are.”

Billy smiled at him. “Thought you didn’t like kids.”

“I put up with you, don’t I?”

His mouth turned down theatrically. “Come on, I’m not that young, Alan.”

The T.V. light caught the dark circles under Billy's eyes. “No,” Alan said softly. “You’re not.”

Billy shot him a silly eye roll and went back to watching T.V.

On screen, Burns made an idiot of himself and the laugh track rolled. Alan chuckled and glanced over at Billy, who was smiling at him, sharing the joke. The television bleached out their faces, casting everything in stark flickering black and white.

The faded Highlander t-shirt Billy was wearing was old, soft, and ridiculously warm. Alan felt himself getting sleepy and the voices on T.V were becoming unintelligible, just white noise. God, it had been a long week. He just wanted to get away from it all and fall apart. Watching the M*A*S*H marathon with Eric and Billy had been the most fun he’d had for a while.

"I liked your UCLA talk," Alan said.

"Yeah," Billy asked mellowly and yawned. "Didn't know you watched it."

"Ellie did too," Alan said and then hesitated. "She said you're a keeper."

"Is that so?" Billy mumbled. He was still looking at him, but he looked like he had spaced out about something or fallen asleep with his eyes open.

He had been working himself ragged to make up for tuition costs for the fall semester. Alan had seen the lights on in the museum workshop at ridiculous hours of the night, and Billy always picked up his cell phone no matter that it was three in the morning when normal people should have been unconscious. Eric was a stabilising factor in some ways with his everyday routine and three square meals, but they were too used to college time. It was just another testament to Alan’s fatigue that when Billy finally moved, he left spectral images behind him.

He tasted like popcorn.

That was his first thought.

He tasted like popcorn. The artificial butter had left a salty residue on his lips. The dry summer air had chapped them slightly, but the edges of his mouth were soft.

Two seconds later, Alan realized he was caught in the middle of the kind of earnest timid kissing you only saw now in Walt Disney movies and the old black and whites.

“Billy.”

The sound was muffled, but Billy stopped and let go of his shirt. He drew back. His eyes were closed. “I, uh…” Billy swallowed and looked at him. It was awful the way he looked at him. “I should, uh…” He covered his face with his hands. “Fuck. I'm sorry, Alan.”

"Don't be sorry," Alan said and grabbed Billy's arm to pull him forward. He missed Billy's mouth and got his chin instead and then landed it the second time.

Billy made a sighing noise, weary and relieved, and kissed him back. Alan nervously smoothed his fingers down Billy’s shoulder, feeling the slight friction in the cotton. It felt like his sense of touch had been rerouted to the pads of his fingers and the tips of his mouth. He’d forgotten how it felt. He hadn’t…he hadn’t done this for a while. Not since Ellie. And this was…he didn’t…it didn’t occur to him till now at this precise moment that he should have seen this a long time coming.

Billy’s mouth ghosted over his cheek and then back to his mouth. His fingers were at the back of Alan’s neck, carefully inching up the back of his neck.

Alan leaned forward to kiss the edge of Billy’s ear as an excuse to bury his nose in his curly hair and smell the cheap shampoo all the grad students bought at the dollar store. “We should talk about…this,” he murmured.

“Mm.” Billy ran his hands up through his hair. “Not really.”

“My kind of guy,” Alan said.

Billy looped his arms tighter around Alan’s neck and laughed at him, dishevelled and breathless. His fingers skimmed the collar of Alan’s shirt, and he leaned over to kiss him softly on the mouth. “It’s getting late- I should be heading back to my own place.” He pulled away and reached for his scattered papers on the coffee table.

Alan put his hand down on the stack. “You could…stay,” he said hesitantly.

Billy looked surprised. “But. Eric.”

Alan’s eyes widened. “Wha—no! Jesus, no, I’m saying we… I don’t think we—but you could stay.”

“Huh.” Billy smiled at him tentatively. “Okay.”

It felt weird and exactly right seeing Billy in his spare pyjamas, both of them side by side in the bathroom mirror brushing their teeth. Billy looked like he belonged stretched out in Alan's bed, and Alan forgot what he'd promised for a second and pressed heated kisses to Billy's throat, his ears, and Billy retaliated by shoving his warm broad hands under Alan's t-shirt. But then Billy yawned against Alan's shoulder, and Alan yawned back in answer, and they both began to laugh.

Alan couldn’t say he slept well. He wasn’t used to sleeping with someone else, and the instinct to just sprawl across the whole bed was a hard one to break. What no one ever said about sleeping with someone else was how much you both hit each other when you moved to get comfortable, the way you figured out much too late that you didn’t need nearly as many blankets to stay warm, or the sheer percentage of a person that consisted of bony elbows and knees and cold feet.

 He didn’t sleep well, but he slept well enough.

 

They both jolted awake to Alan’s annoying call-of-the-dead alarm at five in the morning.

“ _Jesus_ , Alan,” Billy groaned and rolled over to bury his head under the pillow.

“Sorry, sorry,” Alan said and reached over to turn it off.

“Mgh,” Billy’s voice was muffled. “What do you even _do_ waking up at—" he pushed himself up on an elbow to read the clock before flopping back down. “ _Hell o’clock_ in the morning.”

“I take a run around the neighbourhood,” Alan replied.

“Of course you do,” Billy muttered. “You realize some days I still haven’t gone to sleep by now.”

Alan nudged the graceful curve of Billy's foot with his toe. “Parties?”

“Pff, I wish. Work.”

Alan pushed back the covers and started getting up. “Speaking of work, since I’m up early I might as well get up."

Billy grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. “Mm. T’Saturday,” he mumbled and put Alan’s arm around his own waist. “Sleep in.”

Alan crowded in closer against Billy’s back and studied the small brown curls dusting the nape of his neck. His arm curled around Billy’s waist. “Okay.”

 

Billy woke up to find the other side of the bed empty, but it was still warm, so he kicked off the sheets and got out of bed. He emerged yawning and scratching his head out of Alan’s room and ran into Eric in the hall. He froze. “Uh…” He realized what he must look like dressed in Alan’s spare pyjamas. “Hi.”

“Hey, Billy,” Eric said cheerfully. “Did you stay over or something?”

Billy shifted from foot to foot and tried not to make eye contact. “Yeah. I…I did. You know, uh, research.”

“Cool. What’s for breakfast?” And with that, Eric headed into the kitchen, leaving Billy to stand bemusedly in the hall.

He crossed his arms and regarded the back of Eric’s head carefully.

“Billy.” Alan came up behind him and lightly touched a hand against his waist. “You need the bathroom?”

Billy just kept staring down the hallway. “We have a very weird kid,” he concluded.

Alan chuckled. “We have a kid, huh?” he said softly. His mouth brushed against Billy’s ear. “Now all we need is a dog, and we’re the Cleavers.”

"The Cleavers didn't have a dog."

 “You made scrambled eggs?” Eric shouted from the kitchen. “And _waffles_?”

Alan laughed again. “I guess that makes me Ward.” And then, “When did you make breakfast?”

“Couldn’t sleep after your damn alarm,” Billy said distractedly. He was staring into the kitchen. “That’s not the point. This… _we_ are going to become public knowledge at some point anyway, by accident or otherwise.  He should know.”

“You got up? I didn’t hear you.”

“You sleep like five hundred logs,” Billy snapped. “Alan, we need to _tell_ him.”

Alan sighed and rubbed Billy’s shoulder. “I know. I know.”

Billy hissed out a breath. “Hell, I don’t even…how are we supposed to do this?”

“I don’t know. We’ll think of something.”

“What if…what if he doesn’t want us anymore?”

Alan’s hand tightened on his shoulder. “Hey, hey. Eric’s a good kid.”

“He’s a good kid,” Billy agreed and hated the thread of desperation in his voice. “But what if he doesn’t _want_ us anymore?”

“Alan! Billy! Breakfast’s cold!” Eric shouted. “I just reheated it in the microwave!”

“Be right there, kid!” Alan wheeled Billy around and looked him in the eye for a moment. “Let’s go,” he said and clapped his hands against Billy’s arms.

They waited a few minutes for everyone to get settled. Alan was sipping coffee and trading tense looks with Billy, who was sitting next to him intently peppering his scrambled eggs.

Alan put his mug down. “Kid, I’m going to be straight with you. Billy and I…uh-”  And shit, that’s where the car stalled out. “We’re, uh-”

“-We’re sort of together,” Billy finished in a rush. “And by ‘sort of’ I mean…we are.”

A heavy silence settled in the kitchen. Alan looked like he was going to throw his coffee back up. Billy shovelled a waffle into his mouth in a commendable effort to avoid follow up questions.

Then Eric nodded and took a bite of his eggs. “I know.”

Alan said, “Wh-at?” and Billy choked.

Eric narrowed his eyes. “What’s the matter?”

Billy gulped the waffle down with orange juice. “You _know_?”

Eric nodded. “Sure. Figured it out when I was on the island. I’m not dumb.”

Alan frowned. “Oh the isla—but Eric, we’ve only…” he looked at Billy. “What, yesterday?” Billy nodded.

Eric had been about to start on his toast but put it back down. “ _What_? You _have?_ Are you serious? What’s wrong with you guys?”

“See, that’s more the reaction I was going for,” Billy said and took a satisfied bite out of his second waffle. "

"I thought everyone knew," Eric replied, and Alan decided to file that away for later.

“Eric, have you told anyone? This is important. People...” He exchanged a look with Billy. “Shouldn’t know. We’re not...everyone isn’t as accepting as you are.”

“I know,” Eric said comfortably. “You’re like the X-Men.”

Billy opened his mouth then closed it. “We _are_ like the X-Men,” he murmured.

“Putting aside the X-men for the moment,” Alan cut in. “We’d...understand if you want to go back home early.”

“What?” Eric looked confused. “Why?”

“We thought...” Billy looked uneasy. “That you might, you know.”

“No,” Eric said. “I don’t know. If you want me to leave—"

Alan said, “What?” at the same time Billy said, “No!”

Billy looked at Alan and then back to Eric. “We don’t want you to leave. We were _afraid_ you would leave.”

“Well, I’m not,” Eric said and crossed his arms. “I like you guys, and I’m staying.”

“Great,” Billy said, and his smile covered half his face. And then, “Hey, pass the ketchup, will you?”

“Sure,” Eric replied. “You want the rest of my syrup?”

Alan sat back looking at them and took a huge gulp of his coffee. Yup, they were the goddamn Cleavers. "Just don't blame it on me if we don't ever get a Wally," he said.

 

 “I blame this entirely on you,” Alan grumbled as they watched the doctor finish up with Eric's broken arm.

“Me?” Billy demanded.

“Yes, you with your snowboarding and your New Zealand and your summers with Evel Knievel.”

“Slander,” Billy declared. “Although admittedly, that last bit would have been extremely cool.”

Alan crossed his arms. “He had to get this from somebody and it sure isn’t from me.”

Billy stared at him blankly. “Are we seriously going to have one of those ‘he gets it from your side’ fights? Because here’s a fun fact: nobody in this room is related. Well, I don’t know about the doctor. He kind of looks like Paul.”

“Well, he got it from you somehow,” Alan argued. “Probably a Y-chromosomal Adam thing.”

Billy snapped his fingers. “Oh shucks, and the one day I didn’t pack my gel electrophoresis kit.”

“Okay,” the doctor interrupted. From the way he was trying not to smile, Billy suspected he might have overheard. “It’s a clean break, should heal up pretty well. Keep the cast as clean and dry as possible. Call the office if you experience any problems.” He looked at Alan and Billy. “We’d like him to come back in a few weeks- if you want to book an appointment now, the front desk will help you set that up.”

“Thank you.” Alan shook hands with him. Billy went over to examine Eric’s cast.

“Looks pretty cool,” he said and gave Eric a thumbs up. “We’ll have to buy a marker from the store so people can sign it.”

Eric grinned at him. “Neat! All the people at school said I could do that.”

Billy leaned closer and said in a low voice, “And I know this sounds hypocritical coming from me, but please try not to do this again or Alan’s gonna murder me.”

"I thought those rocks on the trail were safe," Eric protested.

"Don't want you getting hurt. Your flight's tomorrow," Alan said, and he wished he hadn't, because Eric's smile diminished.

"I'm going back to Enid," Eric said. "I'd forgotten."

Billy wanted to say that Eric hadn't forgotten at all. Eric had already folded up all his clothes and left a row of empty hangers in the closet. All his toiletries had already been cleared out of the bathroom.

"It's okay, Eric," he said. "Sometimes we forget things."

 

That night Billy made pasta with extra sauce like Eric liked, and the three of them stayed up telling stories and laughing well into the night. Alan told stories about the dig, and Billy talked about stupid things he'd done in his undergraduate days in the engineering school. They even let Eric try a sip of beer, which he ran into the kitchen to spit out a second later.

When Eric finally spoke later, it was to tell stories about his parents, his father's soft eyes and his mother's dry sense of humour. He talked about family trips they had taken and how he had been shuttled back and forth between them like a ping-pong ball when they had divorced. He talked about meeting his mother's boyfriend, who had seemed cool and liked dinosaurs and had offered to take him dinogliding on his next business trip to Costa Rica.

"You know, I'm almost glad for Jurassic Park," Eric murmured. His eyelids were wavering and losing the fight to stay open. "Otherwise I wouldn't have met you guys."

Billy reached out and touched the tips of his fingers to Alan's. "Yeah," he said, and his voice came out hoarse. "I know what you mean."

 

The plane Eric was taking back to Enid was a little puddlejumper, and Alan was reminded of the plane they had taken for a flyover to Isla Sorna and how it had looked after the spinosaurus had torn it to pieces. He blinked away the image and lengthened his stride to catch up with Billy and Eric, who were already at the gate.

“Got all your stuff?” Billy was asking.

Eric hitched his duffle bag higher on his shoulder. “I think so.”

“Email me when you get to Enid,” Billy said. “And don’t be a stranger. Let me know how school goes.”

"You can email me," Alan offered. "I'll try to answer."

"He'll try," Billy needled with a smile. "How long has this laptop been alive, Alan?"

"Half a year," Alan said. "It's a new record."

"There you go," Billy said. "Fifth time's the charm."

Billy sent a grin towards Alan and then Eric, and then the flight attendant who was collecting tickets. Alan sort of wanted to tell Billy to stop spreading his smiles around, because someone was bound to get the wrong idea.

"There's always a place for you in Berkeley," Alan told Eric instead. "Just give us a call. I mean it."

"Thanks, Dr. Grant," Eric said, and when they shook hands, his grip was tight like he didn't want to let go. He picked up his bag, dropped it, and surged forward and pulled them both into a hug.

Alan's and Billy's shoulders knocked together awkwardly, and Billy gave him a helpless look and then put an arm around Eric and another around Alan. Alan did the same, and they were suddenly a tiny circle of warmth, their foreheads close.

"Thank you," Eric was murmuring. "Thank you. _Thank_ you."

Alan squeezed him tighter. "What are families for?"

Billy smiled at him and leaned forward to kiss Alan's cheek. "What are families for?" he agreed.


End file.
